The Fatherhood Chronicles
by anaer
Summary: In which Gambit comes to the realization that his darling baby girl is all grown up and tries to defend her from the evil that is boys. Also entitled "Now I know how Wolverine felt" Will Rogue be able to save her daughter's social life? ROMY JONDA LORO?
1. A Few No Good Men

Adrian: 'Allo! How are you all on this most wonderful of days? At least, I hope it's a most wonderful day given that you could be reading this at any given time...but, whatever. This is the beginning of a beautiful one-shot that may or may not develop into a series (although it's more likely than not). I call it: The Fatherhood Chronicles. Basically, stories about Gambit and his...difficulties in raising children. It also could be called, "Now I know how Wolverine felt." Just for the record, for Gambit's energy-form, think New Sun, but more glow-y and with hair. And mutants and humans coexist peacefully in this story. It's now "humutant" society.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men: Evolution.

**The Fatherhood Chronicles: A Few (No) Good Men**

Remy LeBeau wasn't quite sure when it had happened (or even when it had started, for that matter). All he knew was that one day he had walked into the kitchen and found his daughter looking...older. More...womanly. The mutant superhero known as Gambit had stopped, frozen, and done a double-take to make sure his eyes hadn't deceived him. But, alas, it was meant to be. Somehow, in the past sixteen years of raising his daughter, Na'ilah – his pride and joy – had turned from the adorable, cherub-faced, green-eyed little baby...into this. She had _breasts_ for crying out loud! When did that even happen?

The shock of the realization turned out to be way too much for Remy to handle, and he fell to the floor with a large 'thud'.

When the red-eyed Cajun awoke, he found three pairs of eyes hovering over him. Two of them green and one of them red and black, much like his own.

"You okay, sugah?" Rogue asked, helping her husband stand to his feet. Too shocked to say anything coherent, Gambit just nodded.

'_Next t'ing y'know, she be bringin' home __**boys**__,'_ he thought in disgust once his brain had processed the fact that his darling little girl had, in fact, _grown_ _up_.

His wife, sensing the fact that her husband might not be all too together in the head at the moment, took action. "Alan, honey, why don't'cha go fetch ya father some wateh from the kitchen. Na'ilah, go get Hank. Ah think your dad might not be all too well at the moment."

Both kids nodded and scurried off.

"Now, Swamp Rat," Rogue turned, cornering Remy. "What is your problem?"

The energy-projector turned, his eyes wide. "Anna, she...she got _breasts_!" he exclaimed.

Rogue rolled her eyes in annoyance. "_That's_ what's got ya so worked up? That our _teenage_ daughter successfully passed _puberty_?"

"But when did dat happen?" he cried. "She was jus' a li'l girl! Next t'ing y'know, she be bringin' home _boys_!"

The stripe-haired mutant sighed, averting her eyes. "Ah guess now probably wouldn't be the best tahme ta tell you about Jimmy..."

Now THAT caught his attention.

"Jimmy? Who de hell is _Jimmy_?!" Remy cried.

"Her boyfriend," Anna-Marie growled.

"Her _boyfriend_?! Dat girl way too young to have a boyfriend!"

"Oh, that's rich comin' from you, Mistah Ah-Married-Mah-First-Wife-At-Eighteen."

"Hey, dat was different, chere," the Cajun retorted. "It was an _arranged_ marriage. Ah had no choice in de matter!"

"And all the girls ya slept with before that?"

"Dat's beside de point. Na'ilah is way too young t' have a boyfriend."

Rogue rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Ah miss the days when life was so much simpler...why did Ah ever have kids? Why did Ah evah wanna touch? Why did Ah evah want the Swamp Rat? Why did Ah evah give up bein' _goth_?" The X-Woman asked herself.

"Non," Gambit went on, ignoring his wife's internal monologue. "She is definitely way too young f' a boyfriend. And dis Jimmy ain't good 'nough f'her, lemme tell ya. She needs a good t'ief, dat's wat she needs. Ah betcha he couldn't even break into de _mansion_, much less anywhere else," he ranted.

"Remy!" Rogue exclaimed, catching onto what he was saying. "Our daughtah is _not_ marryin' one'a yer guild membahs! Jimmy is a perfectly decent boy. He gets straight-A's in school, he's on Student Council, and he even plays sports!"

"Oh, so he's a _jock_? Ah happen t'remember a certain _fille_ not _likin'_ jocks _at'all_."

"He's _not_ a jock, Swampie! And don't you get started with me! Our daughtah is datin' and you're not gonna do a thang to mess it up! Ya got that, _Sugah_?" the frustrated wife declared in that Don't-you-dare-question-me tone of voice she used to always get her way.

"Oui," Remy conceded, an adorable pout on his face. Rogue couldn't help but soften up at the sight of it.

"Aw, Sugah...let's go wahpe that adorable li'l pout offa your face." A very naughty grin accompanied her words, and Gambit's mind immediately departed from the daughter-fiasco onto more...important things. For the moment, at least...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Three days later the subject came up again when it was Remy's turn to pick the mansion and boarding house kids up from school (the supreme masters of the mansion – i.e. Xavier and Logan – had decided it was easier – and safer – to let one of the adults do the driving rather than having the kids carpool themselves, and thus they had drawn straws and happened upon the infamous "car-pool" fiasco, but we don't talk about that. How the Brotherhood got involved was a whole other story, but at least it was thriving positively somehow, despite all the adults being the sludge of humutant society). The last school bell had rung about ten minutes ago, and now he was waiting for the last few stragglers to make their way to the vehicle (his daughter being among them).

"Hey, Uncle Remmers," a voice cut through his thoughts. 'Uncle Remmers' didn't need to turn to know who had addressed him. There were only two people who had the gall to call him 'Remmers ' and get away with it. And Gambit was fairly sure that Pyro was no longer in school...but then, he could be wrong. One never could tell with the Aussie. He was just _weird_.

"Zen," the brunette man greeted, turning to see the boy who had just plopped himself into the passenger's seat. There was point number one in the whole Pyro-was-weird thing. Who else in the world would name their son Zen?

Zen grinned madly (almost as madly as his father...but then again, he had some of Wanda's less-insane-but-way-more-psychotic-ness to counteract his father's mad grinning) and ran a hand through his fairly short white hair, orange streaks dancing through his fingers as he did so. "So, how was your day, Uncle Remmers?" he asked, voice containing a faint Australian accent. And there! That was another thing. For the life of him, Remy couldn't understand how the boy managed to have an Australian accent. He'd never even set foot on the continent (being, in part, as Pyro was still banned from ever coming back, even with the human-mutant worldwide peace laws in place).

"Eh, same as usual," the Cajun responded wearily. "Y'know, savin' de world from psycho mad-men."

"Like gramps?"

"Actually, today y' grand-père laid low. Ah dunno, but Ah t'ink he likes me f' some weird sorta reason. 'E always tends t' hang low when it's mah day. Nah, t'day was more o' less y' average evil scientist tryin' t' experiment on—what de hell is dat?!" Remy cut himself off, noticing something across the campus.

Zen turned his head, following his godfather's line of sight. What he saw made him pale considerable.

"Now, Uncle Remmers. Don't do anything rash! Auntie Anna wouldn't like that! Don't do it!" the teenager tried to calm him. But, alas. It was too late for poor old Gambit. The sight he saw would forever be imprinted in his brain. It was his daughter. Being hugged by a...a _boy_ (the Cajun purposely ignored the fact that Zen was a boy who frequently hugged his daughter because the two of them had been cradle-buddies together. AND, Zen could decently rob a house or break into a mansion, courtesy of the illustrious Remy LeBeau).

"Oh," Remy growled. "So _that's_ Jimmy."

Zen nearly freaked out. When his uncle started speaking properly, one knew that someone was in trouble. And one James Tittensor was about to find out what it felt like to be blown into a million pieces. When his uncle opened the van door and stepped out, ignoring the shrieks of all the kids in the back seat, Zen knew there was only one thing left that he could do. The magnetic mutant picked up the communicator and called the mansion.

Remy, meanwhile, strode decisively towards where his daughter stood hugging her boyfriend. He could feel energy beginning to pour out of his being, reminding him to keep his emotions slightly in check. Even though he was purposely breaking Rogue's rule, he was still sane enough to realize that if he did burst into his energy form, there was no way his wife would ever forgive him in this lifetime. It was hard, but the enraged father managed to constrain himself somehow. Ah, the woes of being an Omega-class mutant. Always having to restrain oneself.

Oh, well.

Unfortunately (or fortunately for Jimmy, as the case may be), Na'ilah happened to glance up just in time to see her father bearing down on the two of them, his lengthy hair whipping every which way and energy cracking off of him in bright white waves. Her whole body froze, eyes widening ever-so-slightly, causing Jimmy to turn around. The sight he saw stunned him.

"My dad," she whispered to her petrified boyfriend. Truth be told, she was just as scared (if not more so) as him. He looked like he was about to change into his energy form. The only time she had ever seen that happened (and that had truly been a sight to behold) was six years ago. The ten-year-old girl and her six-year-old brother had been kidnapped by a slightly crazy assassin that had a strange obsession with her father. There had almost been nothing of him left for Rogue to finish off.

"That's your dad?" Jimmy exclaimed, sweat culminating on his face as he began to hyperventilate.

Stepping out in front of her boyfriend, the teenage girl put on a brave facade. She would go down in history as noble to the death. "Uh...h-hi, Daddy," she greeted, stammering slightly. The energy-crackling and hair-whipping seemed to die down minutely as he stared her down.

"Na'ilah. Sweetie. _Who_ is that _boy_?" Na'ilah knew she was in trouble when her father started using proper grammar.

And now for the moment of truth. With a smile that showed anything but what she was feeling at the moment (fear that her boyfriend was about to be blown out of existence), she replied, "Daddy, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Jimmy. Jimmy, this is my father, Remy LeBeau, more commonly known as Gambit."

"N-nice to m-meet you, Mr. LeBeau," the ever-polite human adolescent greeted.

Now, Remy knew his daughter was trying to butter him up. Not only did he have empathic powers, but that girl only ever called him "daddy" when she was trying to get something from him. Or in this case, stop him from murdering her boyfriend. Every other time it was "papa" in true Thieves-Guild style. Gambit, though, would not be swayed.

"Move out of the way, honey," the red-eyed mutant responded. Nervously, his daughter inched away from between the two men of her life. As her father continued to bear down on her boyfriend, their salvation came in the form of a strong Mississippian accent.

"Remy Etienne LeBeau, if you lay one hand on that boy there, Ah swear Ah will lay a hurtin' on you so bad!"

"Mama!" the girl exclaimed in delight as Rogue swooped out of the sky.

"Laying hands was never part of the plan, _mon chère_," Remy replied caustically, even though he did halt his motions.

"Blowin' the boy up counts as layin' hands, Swampie," the enraged wife shot back, landing next to her husband. "'Sides, imagine where you'd be if Logan'd gutted you every time you came near me."

"He damn near succeeded in doin' dat more times'n you know!" the energy-casting mutant glowered. "An' now Ah know damn well why! Y' didn't see de way he was touchin' her!"

"He was giving me a hug!" Na'ilah protested, not so afraid since he'd started talking his Cajun-speak again.

"Y'ain't allowed t' hug no boys!" Remy shouted in response.

"I hug Zen all the time and you don't have a problem with that!"

"Zen ain't a boy!"

The unfortunate mutant in question just happened to amble onto the scene at that particular moment. He'd deemed it safe to leave the comforts of the van when he'd seen Rogue approach, and now the adolescent was starting to wish that he hadn't.

"Well, if I'm not a bloke, what am I? I'm certainly no sheila, that' s for sure," he muttered to himself, feeling up his chests at the same time to prove his point.

Rogue, meanwhile, took this opportunity to turn to the petrified human in the midst of these powerful mutants.

"Uh, hey Jimmy," the southern belle started, turning to her daughter's boyfriend. "Ah think it would be best if you, ya know, went home and left Na'ilah alone for a couple o' weeks. Just until mah idiot of a husband calms down enough for us tah talk some sense into that thick skull o' his."

"O-okay, Mrs. LeBeau."

"Please. Call me Rogue. Everyone else does...well, except Zen, but that boy's a few trees short of a forest, if you know what Ah mean."

"Uh...right, Mrs...um...Rogue."

Rogue shook her head, shooting the boy one last smile before going to confront her raging husband. The terrified human took off in the opposite direction running so fast he could almost be mistaken for Pietro.

Spinning her furious spouse around, Rogue glared up at the taller man with death in her eyes. "You an' me," she began lowly, "Are gonna have a real _long_ talk tonight."

Remy eeped.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Jimmy called her two days later t' break up wit' her," Remy recounted to Logan as they sat at Harry's having a drink. "An' Ah t'ought dat was de end of it. But now...now it's worse! Logan, she datin' _Mike_!"

The feral mutant spewed out his beer, making a weird gagging noise that was someplace between choking and laughing. "Mike? As in Michael, Angel's brat? The one with the God-complex?"

"_Oui_, dat's de one," Remy mourned pitifully. "An' Rogue says if Ah hurt him, we're gettin' a divorce."

"It's about damn time," Wolverine muttered under his breath, taking another swig of beer.

"Ah just don't know what to do!" Remy bemoaned, banging his head against the bar top. "So, Ah need some advice."

"And you're comin' to me why?"

"Well, y' managed t' keep me from datin' Rogue for a good couple o' years."

"Yeah, and see how well _that_ turned out. 'Sides, the only reason I've left you two alone is because you ran off and eloped, and by the time you got back it was too late to anull the wedding."

Gambit ignored Logan's snide comments. "_Sil vous plait_, Wolvie, Ah'm _desperate_! Ah can't let dat fool date mah baby girl! And especially not when you way his idiot o' a _père_ into de equation! Ah ain't bein' no in-law with dat stupid, angel-winged twerp."

"Cajun," Wolverine began slowly, taking a long drink from his bottle. "All I've gotta say to you is that there comes a time when you just have to let go and let them date on their own. You can't stay there and scare off every boy who comes a'callin. You've gotta—," the sound of Wolverine's communicator going off interrupted their conversation. "Ah, flamin' hell. I've gotta go. See you around, Cajun."

"What, is some psycho tryin' t' take over de world?"

"Naw, Jamie's gone within ten yards of Rahne's door again. That stupid boy just don't learn!"

Remy blinked, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear as he contemplated Wolverine's last words to the stocky man's retreating back.

"Wait a minute," he said quietly to himself, "Isn't Rahne bearin' down on thirty?"

"Can it, Gumbo!" Came the hollered back reply.

Remy laughed under his breath. "Let go, mah ass. Can Ah get another bottle?" As the beer slid over to him, an evil grin broke out on the dark-haired man's face. Combined with the way his eyes glowed eerily, it didn't bode well for whoever he was thinking of. And there was only one person he was thinking of.

"Heh," he chuckled darkly, taking a hearty swing of his fresh beer. "He's gonna regret messin' wit' mah daughter."

And thus, Operation: Destroy Michael would commence.

TBC...

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of my story! I was going to make it a one-shot, but I've figured if I don't put it up, I'll never finish. It'll be a two-shot instead. Review! And thanks for reading!


	2. Step One: Backup

Adrian: Hey, everyone! I'm back! Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. I got a serious case of writer's block on this story. Although I've officially decided that this story, Out of the Frying Pan, and any other X-Men: Evolution story I write (unless otherwise stated) are all a part of the same universe. I am making up my own fanon, and you will enjoy it or else I'll sic purple peep monsters on you. Not really, but I will be very sad. And possibly cry. Not really.

Oh, and Remy's trip to Manhattan? Yeah, just an excuse to stick the Avengers in the story. Or, more specifically, stick Ironman and Captain America into the story. Possibly even Thor. By the way, in case any non-comic book followers are confused, Tony Stark has Extremis in this story, which is this thing that he got in the comics that basically rewrote his whole system and made him a technopath. More or less.

Points to anyone who catches the Moulin Rouge reference. :D

Anyway, here's part two!

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.

**The Fatherhood Chronicles: Step One—Backup**

"Hi, Uncle Remy!" Little Bryn chirped happily as she opened the door to the Brotherhood Boarding House. The nine-year-old girl, daughter of Avalanche and Shadowcat, smiled up at her surrogate uncle, a slightly mischievous look on her all-too-innocent face.

"'Ey, petite," he replied, scooping the girl into his arms. "You've been hangin' out wit' y' Uncle Bobby again, haven't ya?" Iceman was notorious for polluting the young kids' minds with plans and ideas to prank every adult within the vicinity. For a thirty-plus year-old-man, he sure did have a five-year-old's brain that got along great with every prepubescent child at the mansion, even Bryn, who was frequently shuffled between the X-Mansion and the Brotherhood Boarding House.

"Just a little," she replied in a cutesy tone of voice, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just then, a loud voice hollered through the boarding house, shaking the foundation a little as it called.

"Bryn! Who's at the door?"

"Uncle Remy!" the nine-year-old called back to her father, who came around the corner at that moment.

"Gambit," Lance greeted coolly.

"Avalanche," our story's hero replied. "S'Pyro here?"

"Naw," the earth-shaker replied, holding out his arms for his daughter (who Remy passed over despite the young girl's protests). "He's in Manhattan trying to convince Wanda to quit that new team she and Pietro joined—you know, the one with those loser humans playing at being mutant—and come move back into the boarding house. Why?"

Damn. That certainly put a wrench into the overprotective father's carefully laid plans. And maybe that was why Zen was always at the mansion these days, if his mother had finally turned hero and his father was actively trying to get her to quit (something especially surprising, considering that all the current Brotherhood members had given up their lives of crime to go work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently, they had great dental plans).

"No reason," Gambit responded offhandedly. "Any idea when he be back?"

"Whenever the Scarlet Bitch decides she's had enough of her husband's clinginess and kicks him out."

Damn it. Knowing Wanda, that could be in five minutes or five years. The woman was fickle that way. And then, suddenly, inspiration descended on Remy LeBeau like a light shining down from heaven above. " 'Ey, 'Lanche," he began slowly. "Y' hate _M'sieur Ange_, too, _oui_?"

"Yeah, I hate that prick, not as much as I hate Summers, but, yeah..." Lance cautiously spoke. There was a certain look in Gambit's eyes that everyone who knew the Cajun had come to associate with trouble as it usually spelled a certain southern belle going on a violent rampage (especially if it came while she was PMSing). "No," the younger man announced, moving to slam the door shut in Remy's face.

Unfortunately for the younger father, the red-eyed man jammed his foot into the door before pushing it back open.

"'Ey, c'mon, 'Lanche. S'nothin' bad! Promise!"

"The last time you promised nothing bad would happen, my wife ended up divorcing me and I ended up having to lock myself into my room to get away from Pietro and his attempts to offer me 'comfort'! And now Kitty won't even speak to me unless it's about Bryn, and she's dating that stupid hunk of metal!"

"Oh, c'mon," Remy groused. "Dat wasn't mah fault, an' you know it. 'Sides, you and Kitty would o' ended up divorcing anyhow, and she and Petey would o' ended up togetha anyhow, an' Pietro has just _always_ been gay. Why you t'ink he had it out so bad f' Spikey?"

Avalanche opened his mouth to respond before pausing for a second and offering a shrug instead. "Fine," he eventually replied. "I'll give you that Pietro's gay, but the rest of it I blame on you, and, no, I'm not helping you."

And then Gambit broke down and did something that Lance never thought he would see in a million years (unless Rogue was involved).

"_Sil vous plait_, 'Lanche, Ah'm beggin' you here! Please! Dis is bigger den whatever issues y' may or may have wit' me over y' wife leavin' you f' Piotr; dis is bigger dan Pietro tryin' to hit on you in y' sufferin'; hell, dis is even bigger dan Apocalypse! Dis is about mah daughter, mah darlin' baby Na'ilah datin' dat insufferable brat o' Angel's! Dis is a desperate plea f' help from one desperate _père_ to another!"

The tempermental man looked taken aback for a second before he managed to pull together, "Who says I'm desperate?"

A dark look crossed Remy's face. "Y' may not be desperate now, but Ah c'n guarantee, six years from now, when y' walk into y' kitchen one day t' find y' little girl all grown up an' womanly-lookin', and den find out she been datin' boys behind y' back, you'll be desperate. And den you'll understand de pain Ah'm goin' t'rough right now every time Ah see Na'ilah or Mikey or _Ange_ anywhere around. And you will know. An' if y' help me out now, Ah'll be dere to help you t'rough does tough times when dey come upon you."

Lance blinked. "No." And then slammed the door shut, successfully this time.

Remy stared at the closed door for a second, seemingly not grasping the fact that he'd just been rejected. That's what he got for trying to get a person to help him honestly, instead of just charming the pants off of them. Ah, well. It looked like he was in for a trip to Manhattan. But just for good measure:

"You'll regret dis!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Remy stared up at the beautiful tower before him in astonishment. It was…magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan. It was the type of tower that in another life (or month, rather, as he tended to go every other month switching between the X-Men and Thieves' Guild responsibilities) he would have robbed blind. It was all angles and glass and metal; a perfect example of modern day agriculture. It was sleek, yes, that was probably a good word to describe it. It was Stark/Avengers Tower, owned and operated by _Tony Stark and the Avengers_ ©. It was where Wanda Maximoff and her fast brother, Pietro, currently claimed residence. It was also where Remy Lebeau was going to find his very favourite partner in crime.

He'd even called and made an appointment and everything. Remy was very impressed with himself.

Walking in through giant, rotating glass doors, he made a beeline for the reception counter, all the while plastering on a dazzling smile and his best proper accent.

"Good afternoon, _chère_," he greeted suavely, leaning over the counter as if he owned the place. The girl at the desk blushed and tittered under the full blast of Gambit's charm. He hadn't even started flirting with her yet. Not that he would or anything. No, Rogue would kill him. But if this had been back when he was a happy bachelor, the girl was almost the type he would've gotten in bed. Curly blue hair (a sure sign of a mutation), a nice-sized rack, good hourglass figure wrapped in a sweater-dress, long tight-clad legs. The only thing that would've turned him off was her eyes. Those innocent looking brown eyes. Remy preferred his woman kinky and violent (which was part of the reason why he and Rogue got along so well. No one ever said their relationship was healthy).

"H-hi, how can I help you?"

"I'm here on a social visit with the Avengers. You know, superhero business." Another stupefying grin, and no one could ever doubt that she was putty in his hands.

"O-oh!" the receptionist was even more flustered, if that was possible. "You're a _superhero_?"

"Yep. I'm a bona fide X-Man, even lead one of the teams. But every now and again it's good to kick back and just spend time with family and friends, you know what I mean..." he quickly glanced at her name tag, "Stacy? That's what I'm here for, dropping a visit to some old friends. You know, Scarlet Witch and Quiksilver? Wanda's best friends with my wife." And there was that smile again.

Stacy could have melted. This guy was absolutely _perfect_. Handsome, a superhero, a family man. Why were all the good ones married? With a sigh, the pretty receptionist realized that she would never meet a man this good.

"Well, the elevator to Avengers Tower is that one over there. I…hope you enjoy your time." She gave a weak smile.

Remy smirked back. "I hope you do too, Ms. Stacy." He pulled himself off the counter with a flourish and sauntered over to the elevator that stood open and waiting. He shot another flirty grin at the woman as the doors slid to a shut. Moments later, they opened again to the annoyed face of one Scarlet Witch.

"I owe you an apology," the black-haired woman stated.

"Um…okay?" he asked cautiously, stepping off the elevator.

"I always called _you_ a womanizer in the past, but then I met Tony Stark. I swear the man is incapable of holding a relationship with a woman without attempting to get into their pants. If he weren't co-team leader _and_ paying the bills, I would make something very bad happen to him."

The intercom suddenly buzzed, echoing throughout the exceedingly large, decadent living room of Avengers Tower. _"That's not a very nice thing to say, Wanda, dear."_

"And there's that," the angry mutant continued, dragging the very-confused Gambit through the luxurious living complex that housed America's favourite superheroes. "A few months ago, he disappears for a few days and comes back injected with this techno-organic virus that turns him into the world's best peeping tom. Didn't you wonder why the elevator was already open for you or why it just took you to the floor you needed without any button-pushing on your part?"

"Wan—"

"But I'm glad you're here. You need to take my _darling_ husband back to Bayville before I kill him." And here the two stopped in front of a door that, if one were to go by the creepy black pictures and gothic symbols that decorated it, was easily assumed to be Wanda's. She slammed it open, and then moved her hand into a hex, the blue glow leaping out to drag a protesting St. John Allerdyce before the two of them. He grinned up at his wife and best friend.

"'Ey, Remy! Where've you been, ya bastard!"

"Take him," she demanded once more. "I know that's what you're here for."

Remy frowned for a moment, contemplating. If he played this right, he could probably get both John AND Wanda's help on this. After all, Wanda secretly wanted Zen to hook up with Na'ilah (though his darling daughter hooking up with _anyone_ would be seen over his dead body).

"So," he began conversationally, leaning against the doorframe. "Zen's been awful lonely of late."

John barked out a laugh and Wanda's snorted. "He can't be that lonely, he and Na'ilah are attached at the hip," the longhaired woman replied.

"Yeah, dey were. And den Nai went 'n' got herself _un petit ami_." Two blank looks met his red and black eyed stare. "A boyfrien'," he clarified. "Y'all remember Mike, _oui_? _Ange__'s_ _chile_? Dat's who she be datin'."

Wanda's stare darkened considerably while Pyro began to, well, Remy wasn't quite sure, but he thought it might be hyperventilate. "And how does Rogue feel about this?" The Scarlet With growled.

"She don' care. She says let de girl date who she gon' date."

"Oh, no we won't!" the temperamental woman shouted. She didn't notice the faint blue glow that was stretching out from her and beginning to envelope everything in the vicinity.

"But Wanda—Ah can't get involved. Rogue'll kill me if she t'inks Ah did sumt'in t' break Nai 'n' Mikey up!"

The woman practically snarled, her long, straight black hair dyed red at the ends almost floating around her. "Then we just don't let her find _out_. Besides, there's no way I'm letting MY goddaughter date a prick like that. Not when _my son_ has had a crush on her for years!"

Zen had a crush on Na'ilah? Oh, Remy was going to have to take _care_ of that one. But later. First things first.

"Um…Wanda?" a slightly sheepish voice interjected, and all three turned to see an uncomfortable looking blonde man at the end of the hall, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "You're making the appliances try to eat people again."

Wanda took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tightening her grip on her powers.

Remy squeezed his eyebrows together, trying to place the face. "Hey!" he finally recognized. "Y' Captain America, ain't you? Logan can't stop talkin' 'bout you."

"Steve, Remy. Remy, Steve," Wanda quickly introduced. "Remy's part of the X-Men. Also, he's Wolverine's drinking buddy."

"It's very nice to meet you," Steve said, a huge smile on his face. He reached out his hand. Remy looked at, debated internally for a moment, and then relented and shoot the man's hand. And than regretted it as it felt like almost every bone in _his_ hand was broken by the firm grip.

"_Cap!"_ And there was intercom-Tony Stark again. _"Where'd you put my soldering gun and blowtorch?"_

Pyro's eyes lit up at the mention of a blowtorch, but over the years he had calmed down significantly, so he didn't start jumping maniacally around or burn down anything.

"Tony, I have told you before!" Steve turned slightly, shooting Remy and Wanda a slightly apologetic look before walking off. "You do not need to be working on complicated machines when you haven't slept for a week!"

"An' here Ah t'ought de X-Men were crazy," Gambit commented offhandedly.

"Please, you haven't even met _Thor_ yet."

"Norse God o' T'under?"

"That's the one."

"_Joy_."

They stood in silence a moment, St. John still sprawled out on the floor by their feet.

"Well, come on," Wanda finally spoke, inviting Remy into her lair. "We have a couple to break up."

**TBC…**

Adrian: So, once again, sorry for the really long lack of update. But somehow this story has transformed from the two-shot I envisioned to an actual multi-chaptered story. I will, however, persevere! …And hope you can all forgive me.

Oh, yeah, and in case you missed it up there, cookies to anyone who can spot the Moulin Rouge reference.

REVIEW!


	3. Step Two: Foundation

Adrian: Well, here's chapter three! In which Remy continues in his dastardly plots to stop his daughter from dating boys. Only now, he's got help. Gambit, Pyro, AND the Scarlet Witch all plotting together? Clearly, nothing good can come from this.

Oh, also any mistakes in language can be blamed on online translators. My French, Italian, and Spanish aren't that advanced (although why my Spanish isn't, I have no excuses. I'm just a slacker. I've learned it for too long and been around too many fluent speakers to not know it by now, but I still don't. At least I've only been learning French for a short while, and it's been a while since I seriously tried studying Italian).

So, yeah, basically what I'm saying is that if anyone wants to correct me, please go ahead.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything except this laptop.

**The Fatherhood Chronicles: Step Two—Foundation**

"You're up to something." Rogue announced this without preamble when she walked into one of the mansion's many entertainment rooms to find her husband sprawled out over the couch and marathon-ing _Star Trek: The Original Series_ without her. Or waiting for her, she wasn't quite sure.

Remy's head jerked away from the screen. His mouth gaped open, the straw from his drink half hanging out, as he stared at his wife in shock.

"Roguie!" he greeted enthusiastically, once he realized what she'd just said. "Ah set all dis up f' just de two of us. Stormy took de kids off our hands f' de night, 'n' Ah blackmailed Scooter into lettin' us have de next couple days off."

Rogue frowned. On one hand, this could be one of those nice, sporadic romantic gestures he popped out with every now and again just to keep their relationship alive. On the other hand, it could be one of those _seemingly_ nice, sporadic romantic gestures he popped out with every now and again just to bribe something out of her.

"What do ya want, Swamp Rat?" she demanded, hopping over the back of the couch to sit next to him.

Remy pouted as he shifted, plopping his legs in Rogue's lap. "Anna, y' insult my inner-Trekkie. Ah can't just watch m' favourite show?"

"Sugah, if you didn't want anything, we'd be watchin' Buffy."

"Okay, okay, y' caught me," the Cajun admitted forlornly, a sigh on the edge of his lips. "So Ah talked t' Logan de other day, see? An' de hypocritical lil' Canadian tells me Ah need to let go! Can y' believe 'im? All dose times he nearly dismembered lil' Remy, and he tells me AH need a' let go. Does dat even—"

"Look, sugah, do you got a point with all o' this?" Rogue cut in, shooting her man a very pointed look. Remy laughed nervously.

"Yeah. Basically, Ah got t' thinkin', and decided dat maybe dere's somet'in' to lettin' Nai date. But only under very, _very_ controlled circumstances. So Mikey's comin' t' family dinner in two days."

Rogue blinked. Remy was relenting? Letting Nai'lah and Mike date? The only answer that the multi-coloured haired woman could deduce was that her (charming, sweet, adorable) _cunning_ husband was up to something. If it had been back with Jimmy, Rogue might not have been suspicious, but Gambit and Angel had had it out for each other ever since that one time in the Danger Room when Warren hadn't managed to get out of the way in time, and an Ace of Spades happened to leave his wings incapacitated for days. Warren blamed Remy, Remy blamed Warren, and the two had been at constant war with each other for years.

There was absolutely no way the vindictive thief would ever relent, especially when it came to the fruits of Angel's loins spending an inordinate amount of time around his daughter…but for now, for Nai'lah's sake, Rogue would play along.

"Rems, we don't have family dinner. We live in a giant boardin' school with hundreds o' students. We eat cafeteria food, sweetums. Our kitchen don't even have a stove in it, just a microwave."

Remy quirked an eyebrow, mouting 'sweetums?' to himself before responding. "Dat blackmailin' Ah told y' 'bout? Yeah, let's just say I 'convinced' ol' one-eye into lendin' us de boat house. It's all arranged, Anna. Ah told Nai'lah, she okayed it with Mikey, _Ange_ pouted, Betsy relented, an' Pyro, Wanda, and Zen are comin', too."

Rogue blinked again. Her husband was being rather…_thorough_ about all this. Either he really was serious, or he was even more definitely up to something. The Southern Belle was betting on the latter.

Narrowing emerald eyes at the only serious relationship in her entire life, the powerful mutant gave a slight nod. "Ah'm almost one hundred percent sure you're up to somethin', _dear_, but Ah'm willin' to give ya the benefit of the doubt, Swampie, with the knowledge that should you be plannin' somethin' that's gonna ruin our daughter's life in any way, this marriage _will_ turn abusive. Got that, sugah?" the suspicious woman questioned.

Her husband laughed, relaxing even further in his seat. "Dis relationship been abusive. De way y' hurt poor ol' Remy here, 'tis a rotten shame. Give _nos enfants_ a complex. Make 'em go 'round school tellin' _les professeurs_ 'bout how maman been' beatin' up on papa. Really t'ink y' should have de Prof work on dese anger problems y' have, _chérie_. It just breaks dis Cajun's heart de way y' hurt 'im sometimes." Here the red-eyed man faked a sniffle.

Rogue fake scowled, barely able to contain her laughter at her husband's antics, as she swatted the legs in her lap. "Of course, ya deserve it. Unfortunately, Ah'm too far gone for even a telepath lahke Xavier to help. So you just gotta put up with me an' all my abusive tendencies." A slight giggle escaped before she noticed that her husband was no longer paying her any mind, instead focusing entirely on the television that played their favourite show.

"Shush, woman, you know dis is de best part o' de episode."

Rogue just sighed, shaking her head, and settled in to join her thief of a husband.

**(Two Days Prior)**

"This is what we're going to do," the Scarlet Witch began, a determined look on her heavily made-up face. She sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged, adding an element of terror to the otherwise already scary room that was decorated in all manner of reds, blacks, and—was that a _human skull_? Remy LeBeau would never understand this woman. Or his best friend, for marrying her. He instead took the only chair in the room, which was upholstered in red velvet. He felt a very 'vampirish' theme going on here. Or witch-y. And he doubted it was because Halloween was approaching. "We are going to systematically undermine Na'ilah's relationship while making it appear that we are supportive of it. You, Remy, will be the perfect father. You will be supportive. You will be understanding. You will _not_ give your daughter a sex talk—as accurate as it would probably be, your various sexcapades would probably traumatize the poor girl. And I know it is your goal to turn her off of sex for life—"

"Damn straight," Remy interjected. The glare he received silenced him immediately. Wanda Maximoff was even scarier than his wife.

"—But doing that," the woman continued as if she hadn't suffered an interruption, "would not only alert Rogue that something was wrong, it would also make her kill you and then I'd have to put up with that idiot's moaning about how he misses you." She nudged her head in Pyro's direction, where the other mutant stood against the wall playing with his fire and generally not paying attention at all.

"Okay, but Ah knew all dis before, woman. What y' got f' me dat's new?"

Another dark-eyed stare, but this time the red-eyed man held his ground. Wanda sniffed angrily before just continuing.

"Here's what you do first…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Alan, honey, go get y' sister," Remy commanded, walking into the suite his family shared at the mansion. The twelve-year-old boy looked up from the table where he was completing his homework and tilted his head in his father's direction.

"Mommy's not going to be too happy with whatever you're up to, papa," the overly-perceptive preteen commented, eyes identical to his father's peering deeply in much the same way, instantly knowing that whatever his dad was doing was No Good. Remy had never been as unhappy about his son inheriting his empathic senses as he was now.

"Child, Ah said t' get y' sister. Ah don't need y' questionin' mah motives. If y' maman got a problem, she'll take it up with me herself. Now, go, 'fore Ah decide t' not let y' and James hang out tomorrow. And den Stormy be mad at me, and dat just ain't worth it, _garçon_."

Alan sighed, curling a finger in the white stripe that decorated the front of his hair as he often did when frustrated before getting up to go do his father's bidding. This was just going to end badly.

Remy plopped himself down in the chair his son had just vacated, waiting for his older child. He glanced briefly at the textbook the boy had been using and nearly had a conniption. Algebra II? Since when was his _seventh grade_ son taking _Algebra II_? The Cajun didn't even know they _offered_ math that high in middle school.

"Ah, damn it. Ah seem t' be missin' out on so much in dese kids' lives. Nai's datin', Alan's doin' math. When did all dis happen? De boy could barely count just a bit ago!"

"Um, actually, papa, Alan's been able to count since he was two. Just saying."

Remy looked up to see his pride and joy, the light of his life, his very favourite darling daughter plop down across the table from him, that pout she'd had since she was a toddler on her face, the one that said she was upset with her father and needed to be spoiled in order to make it all better.

Rogue had always gotten mad at him for giving in to that face.

It was hard to resist, though. With her mother's green eyes and two-toned hair, it was almost like staring into a young, adorable Anna-Marie's face, and the thief had never been able to deny his wife anything—well, not since that one time he kidnapped her, that was.

"Na'ilah! We need t' talk," the over-protective father began, sitting up straight in the hard-backed chair.

The pout on the girl's face scrunched up into a look of abject horror. "Oh my god, papa, please don't tell me you're giving me the 'talk'. I'm _sixteen_, I know everything I need to about the mechanics of sex that I need to. Beast gives everyone a pretty detailed description of how it all works when we hit puberty, and mama covered everything that was left over. I really promise you that I do not need to hear that from you!"

Remy was tempted. He was really tempted. Looking down at his _too_ pretty, _very_ young daughter with her…her _boobs_, and her _hair_, and her…_her womanly body_, the father was very tempted to go against everything his best friend's wife had told him to do and regale his daughter with so many tales of his younger days that she would be turned off of sex for _life_. He managed to restrain himself, though.

Barely.

"Actually, _petite_, Ah jus' wanted t' talk t' y' 'bout y' new friend. _Ange's_ boy. Dat telepathic lil' prat y' seem so inclined t' date."

And now came the defiant glare he had taught her himself when she was six—the one that usually got Rogue to sigh and go along with the girl's whims.

"Don't gimme dat look, _fille_, it ain't gon' work on me. Ah _invented_ dat look. But dis ain't what y' t'ink, anyway. Ah've decided t' give dis you datin' thing a shot. And as such, Ah'd really appreciate it if you were to invite y'…_boyfriend_ and his family over f' dinner on Thursday. Cuz dis t'ing ain't gonna work if _Ange_ an' me still hate each other. 'Sides, y' Aunt Wanda and Pyro are comin' back t' town for a bit because dey suddenly remembered dey had a child."

Na'ilah giggled, at that, before exclaiming, "Thank you, daddy! Thank you so, so much. Mama said you'd never go for it, but I knew you would! You're the best!" And the girl looked like she was about to launch across the table to hug him, so Gambit put on his sternest face as he stared at her once more.

"But there will be _rules_."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"No way in hell," Warren Worthington announced when he heard the offer. Na'ilah and Mike, the ignominious little punk, looked crestfallen.

"But, dad—!" the blonde-haired brat tried to protest, only to be cut off with a stern glare from the inappropriately-named Angel.

"I said no and that's final. I might put up with you dating Na'ilah—because she inherited all her good qualities from her mother—but there is no way I'm purposely subjecting myself to a meal with that devil!"

"Dat '_devil'_ is standin' right here tryin' t' do good by our kids, _connard_," Remy snarled in return. "And if y' gonna insult me in front of mah child, de least y' could do is speak a different language. Oh, wait. Forgot. Y' only know English!"

"_Yo sé más idiomas que usted_," the angel-winged freak shot out in Spanish. Mike blinked at his girlfriend.

"Um…what'd he just say?" he whispered.

"I know more languages than you," she whispered back, completely unconcerned with the way the two men were practically growling at each other.

"_Dubito fortemente che,_" the thief returned in Italian.

"And that was?" Mike requested once more.

"I doubt it," the multilingual girl translated.

"This is never going to work, is it?"

"Well, your dad is being kind of stubborn. Honestly, I'm surprised that mine even suggested it. I guess mama's talk got to him."

"What exactly is going on here?" A new, posh voice interrupted, the thick British accent interrupting the two grown men from their rapidly deteriorating argument.

"Mom!" Mike exclaimed. Betsy Braddock-Worthington, the purple-haired once-British-now-Asian telepathic ninja more commonly known as Psylocke stood in the doorway, looking like she was about to kill someone (but then again, that was the look usually on her face).

"Hi, Mrs. Worthington," Na'ilah waved. Psylocke spared the girl a brief nod before turning to the two men in the room.

"I asked you both a question."

"Ehh," Remy began awkwardly while Warren floundered for an answer.

"Mr. LeBeau was inviting us over for dinner on Thursday night, but dad started insulting him," the blonde teen popped in ever so helpfully. His father shot him a dirty look.

"Of course we'd love to come to dinner," Betsy replied evenly, "it's probably a good idea considering our children's…_relationship_."

"Dat was de general reasoning, yeah," the Cajun agreed.

The woman narrowed her eyes, examining the thief. Remy smirked, completely aware of the fact that she couldn't read his mind no matter how hard she tried. There was no way the woman was going to uncover his real intentions.

Like hell he was going to have _Warren Worthington the III_ as a future in-law. There was no room for thirds in _his_ family. Dinner this weekend was going to go _splendidly_.

**(Present)**

Remy watched Rogue saunter away from the sofa, the _Star Trek_ marathon over and done with. He loved the way her hips swayed as she walked, that tight butt of hers shown off completely through the body-hugging black spandex. It was one of the joy's in being married: ogling his beautiful Anna without fear of retribution. It had been an amazing day when Wolverine realized he could no longer attempt to kill the Cajun for groping the skunk-haired girl. The feral Canadian's head had nearly exploded.

Gambit laughed out loud for a second before concentrating. He followed Rogue's mind with his until he felt his lovely wife move a suitable distance away and whipped out his cell phone. Punching a few numbers, the red-eyed man who some called devil allowed a grin that would've convinced them of that truth to creep over his face.

"_Yeah?"_ the person on the other line answered.

"And dinner is a go," he all but cackled into the receiver.

"_Okay, you're talking to _me_, not my idiot of a husband. The whole wannabe-evil thing just doesn't cut it. Although I will say that I'm impressed. I didn't think you could pull it off without screwing something up,"_ the Scarlet Witch relented.

"Well, Anna is a tad suspicious, but everyone else seems perfectly on board."

"_Of course she's suspicious. It'd be suspect if she weren't suspicious. This is you we're talking about, after all."_

"_Merci_ f' de vote o' confidence, _petite_. Dis ol' Cajun really appreciates it. _Really_."

"_I'll see you Thursday,"_ the woman concluded, the line going silent almost immediately.

Remy grinned to himself and stretched out further on the couch before aiming the DVD remote at the TV. It was good to have friends, sometimes. Especially when your friends had crazy powerful wives who loved your kids. The only think left to do was celebrate this good fortune with a marathon of _Buffy_. A click and it was starting.

Gambit was lucky Rogue didn't see this, though. Else, she'd be _really_ suspicious.

**TBC…**

Adrian: One last thing to say-I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. It'll be up before the new year, though. But November approaches and with it comes the wave of fanfiction writers turning to write novels in a month. I'm joining them this year, so I'll try to keep my stories going, but nothing promised.

REVIEW~!


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